


Falling

by springair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Declarations Of Love, Drarry, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Morning Kisses, Pet Names, Post-War, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, all the kisses, so much love, waking up together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springair/pseuds/springair
Summary: Draco is falling, and he’s falling hard.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 25
Kudos: 205





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Pure fluff. No catch. Enjoy <3

Draco is falling, whether that’s in love or into insanity, he isn’t sure, but one thing he’s certain of is that it’s entirely Harry Potter’s fault.

Harry sleeps peacefully next to him, breathing deeply, mop of raven hair spread out against the white of his pillow. Absently, Draco reaches out a hand to brush Harry’s hair from his forehead, smiling as he leans into the touch. Something swells in his chest, and a feeling of content spreads through his body and settles deep into his bones.

Draco, head resting on one hand, watches Harry for a while, the slow rise and fall of his chest a comfort in far too many ways to explain, and wonders how it’s possible that he’s been so lucky as to have him, _his_ Harry, to wake up to every morning. He runs his finger over Harry’s scar, tracing the shape of the lightning bolt, before swooping down and lining a still-healing cut on his cheek, then down to a spot irritating Harry’s chin, up his other cheek, circling both eyes, and finally drawing a line down his nose.

Plump, pink lips curl into a smile. Harry’s head lolls towards Draco, and his eyes flutter open, vibrant emeralds shining behind his hooded lids.

“Missed a spot,” Harry mumbles sleepily, voice rough from sleep, and it sends another thrill through Draco so strong he almost doesn’t register what Harry’s talking about.

“Ah,” he says. “Simply saving the best part for last.”

“Get on with it then,” Harry replies, eyes sliding shut again. Draco huffs, watching the slight bob of his boyfriend’s Adam’s apple, then presses a light kiss to it. He feathers kisses along Harry’s jawline, one on his scar for luck, one on his nose for fun, and then pecks Harry’s waiting lips, pulled tight so as to stop himself from laughing.

Stretching his legs out, Draco leans back again. Harry’s grinning up at him, sleep still partially clouding his features, but his eyes bright and happy, and it’s hard to believe that look is directed at him when those eyes used to look at him like he was the worst person on Earth.

“You,” Harry starts, gently poking Draco in the chest, “should not be this beautiful, first thing in the morning.”

There’s something about Harry telling him he’s beautiful, even when Draco knows his hair’s a mess and his face is bloated and his eyes are tired, that makes him feel warm. And isn’t it funny, how Draco thinks exactly the same of him?

“I am?” he teases, raising a slender eyebrow, despite his racing heart. Under the covers, Harry throws one of his legs over Draco’s thighs.

“Mhm.” A shiver goes through him when Harry brushes his knuckles down Draco’s cheek. “Gorgeous.”

In his mind, everything slots into place. And then the words just fall out, like if Draco keeps them in any longer he’ll burst with the intensity of it, and tells Harry what he’s been thinking about constantly for the last week, since he came home from a shift at St. Mungo’s and a beaming Harry was waiting in the living room with a cup of tea made just the way Draco likes it, milky, and he almost melted with how much affection he felt for the man in front of him.

“Harry, I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

It’s raw, and the emotion in Draco’s voice surprises himself.

Green eyes stare at him for a moment, then in one quick movement, Harry pushes himself up and Draco down, so that he’s hovering on top of him, thighs braced either side of Draco’s own, and hands on the pillow beside Draco’s head.

Draco looks up at him, but not for long, as his eyes flutter shut when Harry dips his head to capture his lips, softly, lazily, loving, like he’s trying to encompass Saturday mornings into one kiss. Harry lowers himself down into a more comfortable position, and Draco immediately winds his arms around his waist. One of Harry’s hands comes up to Draco’s cheek, thumb stroking back and forth, and a small sigh escapes from Draco’s lips.

Pulling back, Harry smiles so widely his eyes crinkle. “Draco, my god, that is the best thing to hear first thing in the morning,” he says, and buries his face in Draco’s neck.

“But–” Draco starts, opening his eyes.

“Yes.” Harry lifts his head. “ _Yes_ , of course. I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” 

“Oh,” Draco breathes out, tightening his hold on Harry. _His_ Harry. His Harry, who is in love with him. His heart soars.

“Oh, indeed.” And then Harry’s kissing him again, and his lips are rough, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest because Harry is kissing him like he never wants to stop, and Draco isn’t sure that he does either. Their mouths slot together perfectly, as if they were moulded with the other’s in mind; they stay like that for a while, tongues stroking languidly and hands exploring familiar territory.

“Well, then,” Draco whispers against Harry’s mouth giddily, when they finally break apart for air. “Good morning, my love.”

Harry laughs breathily, and nuzzles his nose against Draco’s neck. “I love it when you call me things like that. With your posh accent, it makes you sound like Mr Darcy.”

 _Pride and Prejudice_ was the first Muggle film Harry forced him to watch. Draco liked it far more than he was willing to admit at the time, and takes no offence to being compared to the unanimously-agreed-upon heartthrob. They’ve watched it at least five times since, which has nothing to do with the endless number of attractive people clad in period costume. Nothing at all.

“I never struck you as the type to like being called ‘my pearl’,” he says, amused.

“No, not that,” Harry groans. “Far too outdated. And don’t even _think_ about ‘goddess divine’.”

“What a shame, I think that would suit you perfectly.” He gets a nip to his earlobe for that. “Then, Mrs Malfoy?”

“That’s your _mum,_ arsehole,” Harry laughs, a happy sound that Draco can feel the vibration of from where their chests are pressed together.

Draco hums, biting his lip, toying with the waistband of Harry’s Quidditch-patterned pyjama bottoms. A snitch darts away from his touch and straight into a tiny seeker’s hand.

“How about ‘darling’?” he asks, tilting his head close to Harry’s ear.

Harry makes a soft sound and mouths at a spot under Draco’s ear. “That’s nice.”

“Harry, darling,” Draco says, pressing a kiss to his temple, and bringing one hand up to run through the black curls brushing against his cheek. Harry inhales deeply. “My darling Harry.”

That is nice, Draco muses to himself, as Harry cuddles closer into his side.

“I really like that one. S’warm.”

Draco hums his agreement.

“You make me feel so safe, Draco,” Harry murmurs after a short while. “Like we’re a little family of two. Sometimes you infuriate me to no end and it takes me back to how we were at school, but when we’re like this it’s hard to believe I ever hated you.”

Draco thinks of the white scars criss-crossing over his chest, and can see it vividly, but then his mind drifts to how tenderly Harry touched them the first time he saw them, mumbling his apologies, and has always pressed kisses to the deeper ones every time they’re intimate, and yes, he supposes it is a little unbelievable. To his past self, how they could end up like this, to his present self, how they were ever anything but.

“Hogwarts never felt like a home to me as it did to you,” Draco begins, throat tightening already. “And after time, the Manor contorted itself from my happy childhood home into the cold, loveless shell I think of now. I had a house, a dorm, two bedrooms, and yet no home. It was lonely, in a way, like I was lost.”

Taking a steadying breath, Draco shifts himself onto his side so he can look Harry in the eyes.

“But you, you helped me realise that home doesn’t have to be a place. That it can be a person, too. And in that, you found me.” Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, but he needs to say this, and say it now, because he _needs_ Harry to know. “To me, you’re home. My Harry, my home.”

“God, Draco,” is all he replies at first, and Draco’s met with the sinking feeling that he’s said too much. Then Harry grasps Draco’s hand and brings it to his mouth, and brushes his lips over his knuckles so gently it’s barely even a kiss. “I love you, so much. My Draco, my home.”

And it’s those words being parroted back to him that have him realise there’s no question of whether he’s fallen in love with Harry or not, but rather when. He isn’t sure; maybe it was that one night a week ago, with the perfect tea and the perfect smile, or it might’ve been the first time they made love – because it was never _just_ sex with them, always something more – and Harry told him he adored him, or perhaps the evening of their first real date, where they walked down the quiet street that their muggle restaurant of choice led onto, smiling and laughing and blushing in the cold, swinging their joined hands together, and kissing as the first snowflakes fell around them like some cheesy scene in a romance novel.

Draco’s fallen so deep that he can’t see a way out. Not that he’ll ever want one, when Harry looks at him the way he’s looking at him now, so kind and so tender.

“I love you, my darling.” Draco kisses Harry once, twice, lingering on the third, then brushes their noses together. “More than words can say.”

They’re home, as long as they have each other, and at home, falling doesn’t seem so scary.

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, I love these boys so much. They mean everything to me and all I want is for them to be happy. So I wrote that. Because I can.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> Come say hi @balletquartet on twitter/tumblr!
> 
> Lots of love x


End file.
